Of Frappes and Other Things: Part 2
by uhoh13
Summary: Mira blushes, Loki calls the people around them peasants, and outside it's snowing. Part 2 of the Of Frappes and Other Things series.


Hey, everybody! Sorry I've taken SO TERRIBLY LONG to put this next part up. -_-

But here it is! Thank you for sending me those messages of encouragement and for liking/favoriting my story!

And for those who have stumbled across this without reading the first part, MAKE SURE YOU READ THE FIRST PART BEFORE THIS ONE. Or else you'll be really confused and stuff.

I think I would've blushed if I hadn't been so shocked. Instead I remained my pale, untanned self, staring at that impish face before me. "I don't appreciate lying, but thanks, I suppose."

"I don't normally lie."

"Well, this must be one of those abnormal times where you do."

Now he was the one staring. The furrow creasing his brow made me feel so much guilt for my words; I hadn't meant any harm. I was only speaking the truth. He turned his eyes down to the table with an exhale of disappointment. "Right."

"Right..?"

He shook his head, but now I was really curious. What could have him looking so hurt and betrayed by the world? After a long, deep sigh that made me internally wince, he began tracing designs on the tabletop. "Everyone says I'm always lying, even when I'm not. It's ridiculous. Even you, a total stranger, call me a liar." He sighed again, not so drawn-out this time. "I just think it'd be nice if someone would take me seriously for once in my life."

If I'd been feeling bad about this before, now the feeling was increased fifty-fold. I wanted to crawl into a dark ditch and just stay there for a while. A long, long, _long_ while. What was I to say? 'Sorry' wasn't going to cut it; I could tell that already. So what could I do?

"Look, don't take it personally; I don't really trust anyone."

Well, _that_ was just bound to make _everything_ better.

"Neither do I. I suppose that gives us at least one thing in common."

I nodded, mirroring his position and frowning at the tray between us. "And we both like frappes and fries."

"We both know magic."

"We're both considered overdramatic." At this, his tilted his head slightly. "You and your whole 'kneel' thing, and me with... other stuff."

His eyes narrowed curiously. "'Other stuff'?" When I didn't respond, he proceeded to pout, nudging my arm and sending evil butterflies dancing in my stomach. "You're supposed to tell me. That's etiquette."

I rolled my eyes and failed to hold back a snicker. "Etiquette. Right." I left it at that, but he nudged me again with even more impatience. "Okay, look. I'd probably have to show you because I doubt you'd understand if I just told you, judging by everything I've had to try and explain in just the past fifteen minutes. And if I showed you, you probably call me overdramatic and stupid and weird just like everyone else. Okay? So no."

"But what makes you think I'm like everyone else?" he whined.

He did have a point there.

After studying him irritably for what seemed like a very long time, I finally sighed and gave in. He was a stranger anyway, right? So what did it matter? I kept my eyes on my hands as I carefully rolled up the light blue sleeves of my uniform shirt. "Okay?"

I didn't have to look up to know he was staring; I could feel his gaze burning holes into my wrists. "You... were recently in battle?" he tried.

"No."

"Ah, so this is part of your magic? Do your spells require blood?"

The corner of my lips flickered upward just briefly. At least he was trying. "No."

There was a small sigh from his direction. "Then I do not understand. Do they mean something? Do you do this yourself, or does someone else? If it is not for magic, what is it for? And there are scars beneath the more recent ones. Has this happened for a while? Explain this, human Magician."

"See?" I muttered, yanking me sleeves down. "I told you you'd think I'm weird. It's stupid, right? Because it's not magic. I do it myself. And yes, it's been happening for a year or two now. So I'm weird, right? Because of this?"

"Well, I don't know. Why do you do such a thing?"

"Because I hate myself? I guess?"

His amused snort made me finally look up at him. He was smirking as he leaned back and rolled his eyes. "That's why? How ridiculous. How does spilling your own blood make you hate yourself any less?"

I blinked. He really had a point there.

Finally I just shook my head."That's not why I do this. Of course it won't make me like myself even more. But sometimes..." I sighed and stared blankly at the table, feeling his gaze practically boring into my soul. "Sometimes it's like... I don't know. The physical pain distracts me from the emotional and mental pain. And it gets addicting. I can't just stop. I just keep going. I get into the rhythm."

I sounded like a lunatic. Rhythm? Really?

Apparently he thought I sounded odd too. "'Rhythm'? Like... Like music? Your blood makes music?"

I stared at him blankly for a moment, honestly not quite sure what to say or do at this point. "Y'know what? I think we should get out of here. I mean, why stay inside when it's so nice outside, right..?" I glanced out the window at the almost-blizzard. Yeah. Nice.

Loki looked pleased, however; maybe he really liked snow. "Yes. That would be delightful." He stood and held out a hand for me. Being the totally-not-awkward person that I am, I blinked in confusion and blushed. "You take it," he said, raising a brow.

Gritting my teeth and wishing blushing didn't exist, I took his hand and stood up, grabbing the tray full of trash with my free hand (because for some reason he didn't seem to want to let go). But he seemed to have other ideas. "Leave that for the peasants, Mira. They can clean."

I kept my eyes turned downward, knowing – practically feeling – the dirty looks. "Is that what you consider etiquette?"

"Where I'm from, servants do the work."

"But these people aren't servants, Loki," I muttered with a sigh, nodding my thanks as he held the door open for me. A gust of freezing air and snow blew into my face, and I suddenly wished I'd brought a hat or something. "They're just people. I mean, who exactly do you think you are?"

He threw me a funny look, not looking bothered in the slightest by the weather. "Loki. Who do you think you are?"

I waited till we got to my car to answer. "I'm... nobody all that important to the cycle of the universe. I'm just me. Mira." Glancing up at him, I realised how at-one he seemed with the snow. Like he belonged in it. The flakes fluttered into his hair, his eyelashes, his clothes.

"You are you, yes. You are Mira. And, for today and any other time I demand, you are mine."

"Um..." I quickly freed my hand from his and opened his door, then shuffled through the snow to the driver's side and got in, slamming the door. "Yours? What do you mean?" I asked when he finally slid into the seat.

"I mean that, for today, you will stay with me." He shrugged liked it was obvious. "And the snowflakes in your hair looks nice, Mira the Magician. Try to look like this whenever you come to see me."

I started the car, silent and blushing like mad.


End file.
